


those deep bare vacuums between the stars

by 100demons



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Rare Pairings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winry left Resembool armed with her second-best kit and an old trench coat she dug out of her mother’s closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those deep bare vacuums between the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Falcom92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcom92/gifts).



Then there's the two  
of us. This word  
is far too short for us, it has only  
four letters, too sparse  
to fill those deep bare  
vacuums between the stars  
that press on us with their deafness.

 _Variations on the Word Love_  
Margaret Atwood

 

* * *

 

Winry left Resembool armed with her second-best kit and an old trench coat she dug out of her mother’s closet. Ed walked her all the way down to the station, his heavy footsteps thumping in counterpoint to Winry’s much lighter ones.

“Got your ticket?’

She waved a yellow stub in his face.

“Emergency money?”

“In my bra.”

Ed made a face, a faint blush shading his cheeks. Winry laughed and bumped shoulders with him. “Kit’s packed in my bag, I memorized all the phone numbers you made me and I promise I’ll call. Once in awhile.”

“Once a week, at _least_.”

“Oh, like you and Al did?”

His flush deepened and he shoved his hands in his pocket. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“We were pretty dumb kids,” Ed said, ducking his head.

Winry hooked her free arm around his and pulled him close. “I forgave you guys a long time ago,” she said in a quiet voice. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you forget.”

“Fair’s fair,” Ed smiled and they continued in a quiet silence, the comfortable kind where no one has to say anything, the kind of silence that pulls people closer together. They reached the station house, where old Mrs. Rivers was sweeping the platform like clockwork, humming a quiet little tune that went out of fashion fifteen years ago.

Ed pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and checked his watch. “Five minutes. We made good time.”

Winry set her carpet bag on a bench and stretched her arms. “Central first,” she said, looking down where the train tracks cut across the pastures and faded away into the horizon. “I owe Gracia and Elicia a visit.”

“And then?”

“And then the rest of the world, or at least as much as I can stand.” Winry twirled around in a circle, the bottom of her coat flaring out like a black flower in bloom. “It’s traditional, you know. Rockbells have a history of leaving home and making their fortunes, however they can.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

Winry smiled at him, blue eyes gleaming. “We’ll see,” she said and laughed, her bright hair streaks of gold on black.

 

* * *

 

Rose had seen the proposals the military engineers came up with, muttering about long term planning and you know, really can’t rush this kind of thing young lady, is there someone more qualified that we can talk to? She’d seen them and she knew that she could have the schools rebuilt in half the time with a quarter of the projected budget.

“That’s really all there is to it,” Rose smiled, smoothing out her sensible cotton dress over her knees.

The reporter raised a brow. “Ms. Thomas, you are on record for being the youngest mayor elected in the history of Amestris, not to mention that you are the first woman to be elected to this position.”

“Well, I suppose this makes up for the spelling bee I lost in primary school.” Her smiled turned a little more thoughtful. “It’s a new world, Mr. Sawken. I don’t think I’ll be the last either.”

“One more question, Ms. Thomas.” He caught the way her shoulders slumped a fraction and added, “For the readers. They’re interested in what sort of woman the newest mayor of Liore really is. A significant other or...?” he trailed off significantly.

“No.” Rose shook her head once. “No, I’m afraid not. Is that all?”

Mr. Sawken caught the hard look in her eyes and murmured his goodbyes right away, notepads still clutched against his chest. After he’d left, Rose sighed and peeled her heels off, curling and uncurling her toes with a happy moan.

“That better have been the last of them, Lisa.”

A dark head popped her head through the door, thick black glasses perched awkwardly on her nose. “Last one for the day, ma’am. You’ve still got that radio program for tomorrow.”

“And then--”

“Maybe,” Lisa said and disappeared behind the door.

Rose kicked her heels out of the way, watching one of them sail through the air and hit a potted plant with satisfaction. “I deserve at least a cup of tea for this,” she said and made her way from the chair and to the door. “With sugar _and_ lemon.” She frowned at the lack of response.

“Lisa? Li--”

She flung the doors open, nearly smacking Winry Rockbell in the face.

“Oh,” Rose said faintly. Even with a dark tan and a haircut, Winry Rockbell still had the same blue eyes and ready smile, automail kit slung casually over her broad shoulders. “Hello.”

“Rose! Don’t tell me you’re--?”

“May I present Mayor Thomas,” Lisa cut in smoothly, rising from her desk. “Mayor Thomas, this is Winry Rockbell of Rockbell Automail.”

Rose grabbed the doorjamb for support. “Erm,” she said and then flushed a deep red. “I mean-- how can I help you?”

Lisa shook her head and made shooing motions with her hands. “I’ll have tea for two in just a minute, why don’t the two of you have a sit down in Mayor Thomas’s office.” Winry stepped into the office obediently, Rose following her and shutting the door automatically.

“She’s an excellent assistant,” Winry observed, settling herself down on the chair Mr. Sawken had vacated just a few minutes ago.

Rose grinned and plopped down on a chair across from her. “She’s very good at managing me,” she said. “I don’t know how I’d get through the day without her.”

“Mayor?” Winry shook her head and gave Rose a shy smile, white teeth stark against her skin. “Congratulations. The city looks fantastic thank to you.”

“It’s been a group effort,” Rose, flush spreading down her neck. “What brings you to Liore anyway?”

“I’m traveling around the country without the threat of the world ending or being used as blackmail,” Winry said with a wry grin. “I came up to see if I could offer my services as a mechanic and they pointed me over here.”

“The hospital could definitely use you!” Rose pulled out a notebook from her dress pocket (she’d hand stitched it on herself) and made a note with a slim pencil. “Our medical services are still shot to hell and we’re running short on certified medical professionals. I know for a fact that people have been reduced to using wooden prosthetics because the wait to see a mechanic is so long.”

Winry looked horrified. “ _Wooden?_ ”

Rose tried to nod solemnly but giggled instead at Winry’s face. “It’s terrible isn’t it?”

“I’ll get to work right away,” Winry announced, getting up on her feet. “Just point me over to the hospital and I’ll get started.”

“When did you even get here?”

Winry rubbed the back of her neck. “A half an hour ago?”

“Do you even have a place to stay?”

“Well--”

“Why don’t you stay with me, like last time?” Rose blurted out impulsively. Winry’s arm froze and Rose backtracked hastily, “That is, if you want to, I mean, there’s an inn down on Main Street and--”

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” Winry said but she leaned over, close enough that Rose caught the smell of machine oil and lilies. “But if you’d have me, I’d love to stay.” Her eyes were very blue, the color of the noon sky without a cloud in sight. Rose grabbed at the back of her chair, suddenly very grateful that she was sitting down.

“Yes,” she said a little weakly. “Yes, of course I’ll have you.”

 

* * *

 

Winry had a blue toothbrush, the bristles scraggly and worn out. It sat next to Rose’s green one in the chipped mug on the bathroom sink and Rose looked at it every morning when she brushed her teeth, a concrete reminder that Winry Rockbell was sleeping in the room next to hers, that Winry Rockbell lived with Rose Thomas in her tiny little flat. Rose did not know exactly how it happened; one morning, Rose lived alone and the next Winry Rockbell’s toothbrush sat in the mug on her bathroom sink, right next to hers. It made a pretty picture, the two leaning against each other, back to back.

In the mornings, Rose was usually the first one up, rising with the sun. It was a habit from before she’d never quite managed to shake, though she no longer lit a stick of incense and made her daily devotions to Leto. A pot of coffee in hand, she went through her agenda for the day, watching the chimneys all around Liore light up in between bullet points. Winry would stumble into the kitchen a good hour and a half later, lured by the smell of coffee and a ready plate of toast.

Mornings were quiet, filled with the soft music of cups clinking and the rustle of paper. Rose liked to watch Winry in the morning, eyes still sticky with grit and two pieces of buttered toast jammed into her mouth. Their feet sometimes tangled underneath the table and Rose liked that too. She folded over the crossword section out of the paper and slipped that under Winry’s plate, tucking the rest into her bag to read during lunch.

“Give ‘em hell,” Winry grinned, dunking a piece of toast in coffee so black it made Rose’s coffee taste bitter just from sitting next to it.

Rose laughed and stood up, kicking her house slippers aside and pulling on a sensible pair of loafers. “I’m meeting with the Council today, not going to war.”

“Same difference,” Winry said, waving her mug. “Dinner tonight?”

“Spaghetti,” Rose decided. “And some of your granny’s famous stew.”

“We still have half a bottle of the red that Garfiel sent last week,” Winry said, worrying her bottom lip. “I’ll stop by Jake’s on the way home to pick up some stuff.”

“Dessert?” Rose ask hopefully, wriggling into a dark blue cardigan Lisa had picked out, deciding it a very Mayor-y sort of thing to wear.

“Don’t you have a city to rebuild?” Winry twirled a pen in her fingers expertly and gave Rose a sly grin. “A lady must have some secrets of her own.”

“Alright, alright,” Rose laughed again, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door. “But it had better be good!”

“My cooking’s always good,” Winry said smugly, waving goodbye.

Before Winry, Rose lived on toast, oatmeal and pasta that she boiled up by the bucketload and stuffed in the icebox. Dinner was usually spent at the office, spraying stale crackers all over the paperwork she was reviewing, leaving mug stains all over her blotting paper. The first night Winry had stayed over, she’d surveyed the pitiful contents of Rose’s cupboard with a grim look, pushed up her sleeves and set to work.

Since then, Rose had wisely decided to spend dinner at home and enjoy Winry’s cooking. It helped that Winry was very good dinner company. Night suited her, candlelight gilding her golden brown skin, bringing out the subtle shadow in the hollow of her collarbone.

“Tell me a story about somewhere far away,” Rose had asked once, wistfully, admiring Winry’s deep tan.

Winry sipped at her wine, lips stained a dark rich purple. “Okay,” she said, licking a few drops from the corner of her mouth. “Pick a direction.”

Rose thought about all the places she’d never been (there were quite a lot of them, considering that she’d never left Liore) and picked. “North.”

Briggs, in all its icily impassive gory, came alive over their dinner table. Cold winds that cut to the bone, snow covering everything in an inhuman calm. A Queen who ruled over it all with an iron fist and a loyal group of soldiers so fierce and brave.

“I’ve never seen snow,” Rose said, sucking on her spoon.

Winry’s eyebrows rose. “You can’t be serious?”

“It’s too warm down here,” Rose shrugged. “We’re lucky if we get much rain here at all.”

“Liore has its own beauty too,” Winry said, her voice low and intent.

Rose flushed and looked down at her plate. “My turn to do the dishes, right?” Her voice came out pitched a little higher than normal, but they both pretended that there was nothing wrong.

 

* * *

 

“Got a call from Granny last night.”

Rose chewed on her bottom lip as she went over the last meeting’s minutes, a proposal to standardize building codes in her other hand. “How is she?” she asked distractedly. She already had a large blot of ink smeared all over the side of her right hand.

“Complaining about her rheumatism but she seems to be doing alright.”

“That’s good.” Was it subsection B or C that Councilman Williams was having a problem with?

“I think it’ll be nice to go back home, see how Granny and Den are doing. Not to mention the boys.”

“Mhmm,” Rose said.

“I’ll run down to the station after my shift then, buy my ticket.”

Rose froze. “Your ticket to go home?” she asked slowly.

Winry grinned at her. “Good old Resembool,” she said, and ran a hand through her bangs, making it stick out even more. “Should be shearing season about now.”

“Oh.” Rose swallowed. “That’s-- that’s great.” She put down the piece of paper she was holding and clasped her hands together in her lap so they would stop shaking. “When are you planning to leave?”

Winry tapped her chin thoughtfully. “In a couple of days? I have to give a notice to the hospital and get my things packed together. Day after tomorrow, maybe.”

“I see,” Rose said and then stood up, chair screeching against the floor. “Bathroom,” she explained hurriedly and fled the room.

Rose splashed her face with cool water, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. Of course Winry was leaving. This wasn’t her home. Winry Rockbell had a home with her grandmother and her dog and her two best friends in a yellow house in Resembool. Winry had only been staying for a little while and now it was time for her to leave. She pressed a hand to her mouth, tasting salt.

Over the course of her life, Rose made many mistakes that she came to regret. She left school to live with her boyfriend. She blindly followed a killer, thinking he was God. She tried to kill Edward Elric.

She fell in love.

Rose turned the water on all the way and cried into the bathroom sink where two toothbrushes sat in a chipped mug.

 

* * *

 

There were inspection reports to be processed, paperwork to be signed and a city to rebuild. Rose went to work and counted the beats of her unsteady heart in between cups of coffee, like the tinny beat of a sad little toy drummer boy. At home, she curled up on the couch she rescued off the streets and watched Winry pack her things, cheeks spattered with machine oil.

Rose restrained the urge to wipe it off.

The night before Winry left, they sat down to dinner together, just another normal evening. Rose ignored the carpet bag sitting next to the door and ate her chicken pie with slow, steady bites and a glass of cider.

“I’m going to miss it here,” Winry said, nibbling on the edge of her fork.

Rose smiled politely. “You should come back in a few years. The plans project that in three years, we’ll have rebuilt about seventy five percent of the core.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” Rose said and finished the last of her potatoes. “The meal was wonderful.” A smile. “Thank you, Winry.”

“It was my pleasure,” Winry said slowly, brow furrowed like she was reading the latest patient case in _Automail Today_.

Rose pushed her sleeves up and stacked her plates up, mug (WORLD'S BEST MAYOR neatly inscribed on it) tucked precariously into the crook of her elbow. “My turn to wash tonight.” The suds in the sink reached all the way up to her elbow. She’d poured in a little too much soap. Rose clenched her shaking hands and started to scrub away.

“Tell me a story.” Winry hovered behind her, close enough that Rose could feel her breath on the back of her neck.

“I-- I don’t have one,” Rose said, her voice faint.

“Tell me the story about the scar on your neck.”

Rose swallowed, the knuckles of her fists whitening. “Winry--”

The touch of her hand was electrifying; Rose was rooted to the floor, a motionless statue. “Please.”

Rose breathed in, feeling the hard countertop dig into the softness of her stomach. “It was during the riots,” she said, trying very hard not to lean into the touch.

“Go on.”

“We were going over casualty lists, distributing rations to the people in the shelter.” Rose closed her eyes, Winry’s thumb rubbing soothing circles at the base of her neck. “There was a Cornello’s Man hiding in the crowd, waiting.”

Rose was caught between the calloused thumb on her neck and the feel of glass cutting through skin and sinking into bone, Winry at her back and a Cornello’s Man at her front, thick meaty fingers slick with blood. “I was very lucky,” Rose said, her voice distant. “A few inches closer and I would have bled out on the floor in seconds.”

“Rose--”

So close that she could feel Winry’s warmth at her back, the two of them fitting together so easily, Winry’s nose pressed against the soft shell of her ear and she wasn’t sure the heartbeat she felt was her own or Winry’s, each beat thrumming in her veins, a quick rat-tat-tat.

“Stay with me,” Winry whispered, breath tickling the tiny hairs on Rose’s neck. “Stop running away.”

Rose shuddered, soap suds fluttering. “You’re going to leave me,” she said, throat aching with the ragged edges of the words. Her parents, her old boyfriend, Edward Elric, Winry Rockbell. They always left, leaving her alone in Liore.

“I'll come back,” Winry said, pressing her chapped lips against Rose’s dark skin. “Wait for me,” she asked, pressing a trail of kisses down the curve of Rose's neck, lingering on the hollow before the flare of her shoulder.

“Will you?”

“For you,” Winry answered, arms wrapping around Rose’s waist, head pillowed on her shoulder. "Always."

They stayed like that for a long while, long enough for Rose’s fingertips to turn wrinkled and pruny, long enough for her feet to fall asleep, long enough for Winry’s warmth to uncoil the tension in Rose’s back.

“Winry?”

“Hm?”

“I need to finish washing the dishes.”

Winry let go with reluctant fingers, unwinding herself so slowly that Rose turned around and stole a kiss, eyelashes brushing the soft skin of Winry’s cheek. “Come back soon,” she said, smiling into another kiss on Winry’s jaw.

“I promise.”


End file.
